


To Be Held

by Iron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, New Relationship, Sweet as sugar, all i write is fluff these days, everyone has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: Rodimus comes to see Thunderclash after class, seeking comfort from memories of the war and his own mind. Thunderclash tells him about the first time he saw him.
Relationships: Thunderclash/Rodimus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	To Be Held

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWeeb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWeeb/gifts).



> If you like this, check me out on twitter at https://mobile.twitter.com/fab_roddy!

Thunderclash teaches classes three days a week, with one class for the morning and one class for the evening shift, in an attempt to bring back knowledge that had been lost during the war. Most of his students are quite happy to be there, it being a voluntary class, and it’s normal for them to run over their time a little bit. He’s managed to convince Ultra Magnus to forgive his students when they’re tardy for their shifts. 

He’s about to pull the class into an utterly fascinating discussion about pre-war crystal garden designs when Rodimus pokes his helm into the room. Thunderclash is surprised to see him; they’ve only been dating a few months, and Rodimus prefers to keep their lives separate from each other. It’s nothing to do with keeping their relationship from the crew - they’d already told Drift and Ratchet, and they weren’t doing much to hide it outside of their duties - but Rodimus hates feeling like the crew is judging him on duty. 

Still, Thunderclash has never kept his own affections and his own desires for affections any sort of secret. When he spots Rodimus he brightens, dismissing the class with a smile and a congratulations on the work they’d gotten done that day. As soon as they’ve file out he’s on Rodimus, eager to get hands on him. 

Thunderclash gathers Rodimus up in his arms, engine purring. “You came to see me after class?” 

Rodimus rests his chin on Thunderclash’s shoulder, letting his aft rest on Thunderclash’s forearm. He barely weighs anything to the mech, but his frame is warm and smells like hot metal. “I came to be held.” His voice is dull, and Thunderclash pets his back in response. 

“Hard day on the bridge?” He looks over his classroom. He should lock the door. Rodimus doesn’t like being seen as vulnerable, and someone walking in on this would be upsetting to him. 

“Memories.” Is all Rodimus has to say. 

Thunderclash sighs, stepping backwards until he can fall into his chair. “I’m so sorry, my star fire. Do you want to talk to me about it?” 

Rodimus shakes his helm. He melts into Thunderclash’s arms, seeking contact at every point where their frames might touch. His engine thrums with anxious energy, spoiler wings and limbs giving sharp little twitches as energy sparks through his frame. He doesn’t like this, doesn’t feel good. He feels like a mess. Thunderclash pets his back, fingers scratching just beneath his spoiler hub. Warm air wafts over his frame as Rodimus vents; Thunderclash waits quietly, until the mech’s engine has started to idle and Thunderclash can feel him go from forced strutlessness to true relaxation. 

“Do you want to tell me what prompted this?” 

Rodimus tenses, shaking his helm. 

Thunderclash pets his helm. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me. Do you just want to sit here with me?” 

Another moment, and then he nods. 

“Do you want me to keep talking to you?” 

Nodding again, this time paired with Rodimus snuggling under his chin. 

He has another class soon, but he can’t imagine letting Rodimus go back to their hab alone. Not when he’s this upset. Thunderclash turns his chair until he can reach his desk, pulling a datapad over in order to send out a mass email telling his evening class that he’s canceling on them. He’ll make it up to them next week. 

After that, he dredges up a story to tell him. “Do you know the first time I saw you? I thought you were Solus Prime reborn... you were on fire, in the middle of the battlefield, burning like a beacon in the middle of the field. I stopped and stared at you. I got stabbed for that, you know, watching you when I should have been fighting. I couldn’t look away. You were captivating. You _are_ captivating, even when you’re not on fire.” 

Thunderclash lets his helm tilt back, staring at the ceiling and recalling those days. Fighting, and war, and every moment being about survival. And the awe of seeing that sigma for the first time sweeping through him. “You had your original paintjob, the first time I saw you. Your magenta’s glowed under the light of Luna 2; when your flames went up and covered you in soot you were just as beautiful. You cleared the field for almost a mile in every direction with those flames of yours. Kept the front line from advancing on the medical team. I remember ... your optics were so bright, so blue. I couldn’t look away when the flames finally died. It was like Cybertron reoriented itself around you.” Thunderclash cycles air, feeling his internals cool. He’s trying to bring back the memory of himself watching Rodimus from the ridge, gathering up the strength to head back into the fray and push past the front lines. 

The entire battlefield had stopped to watch him, but it hadn’t last for long. Thunderclash had lost him in the fray afterwards. “I tried to find you after, but you’d already gone. I remember thinking ‘when can I find a chance to talk to that mech’, but you weren’t ever interested in talking to me. Do you know how many times your commanding officer told me to stop asking after you?” He laughs, just a little. “I think he was trying to protect you.” 

“Protect me?” 

“... my interests were never pure, Rodimus. Even when you were Hot Rod, you were beautiful. I wanted you.” He pinches the top of Rodimus’s spoiler. “I wanted to possess you. Hold you. Bond to you.” 

“You didn’t know me.” 

“I knew enough.” Thunderclash pets his helm. “You’re beautiful, Rodimus, inside and out. I saw your brilliance, your kindness, your loyalty...” He sighs. “You’ve always been and remain utterly lovely in every way.” 

Rodimus settles more easily in Thunderclash’s lap, finally relaxing. It probably won’t be long until Thunderclash can remove him to his hab. He’ll bring him dinner and settle him into his berth, and ... Well, whatever Rodimus wants will come next. Thunderclash isn’t entirely used to these fits, but Drift had given him a thorough understanding of what his mech needs when he’s like this. Thunderclash is ready to give him just about anything he wants. 

For now he sits, cradling him, listening to the ship move around them.


End file.
